We Are Young
by silvermist1116
Summary: A story of betrayal, love, heartbreak, and cruelty. The worst, however, are the bloodstained faces and tear filled eyes of thirteen tributes. Follow the journey of thirteen children fighting to come out on top in the 30th Annual Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I have written before, but this is the first time I've posted anything. I ask that all inappropriate/disrespectful comments be kept to yourself. I don't have time to read rude comments and I am sure that the time it took to write rude reviews can be better spent reading another story. I'm not asking you to be nice, but not to say anything if you can't be. If there are any questions don't hesitate to ask. If they're about spoilers then I will ask you to wait and see for the next chapter.

The thirteen tributes are characters that twelve of my friends created, plus my own. I have also added a different game maker, so she is mine too. Each chapter will have three or four POVs, unless it is in my game maker's POV, then it is just one POV. The causes of death, who killed who, and orders of deaths for the tributes was done by random drawing, so I would not be seen as biased by my friends.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the characters from the book mentioned. I do, however, own all the OC characters, excluding the twelve my friends made.

Please read and review. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1: The World is Black

The day of the Reaping is finally here and I can't contain my excitement to volunteer. In just a few short minutes after the drawling of District 2's escort and the usual short film about the rebellion and why the Hunger Games came about. It was my last year and as the number one female in the academy it's my right to participate this year.

I stood in my too tight black dress that I grew out of two years ago with three inch black heels to add to my five foot four inches slight muscular stature. The sky was cloudy and the mountains in the distance were touching the sky. The crowd of possible tributes all stood in the same colors of black, brown, and gray.

"Wasn't that a great film?" Our district escort Perman Soft asked excitedly while clapping. "And now for the tribute drawing for the 30th Annual Hunger Games."

Perman Soft was purple. Nothing, but purple. He had pale purple skin, a neon purple pompadour, neon purple furry vest, tight purple pants, and light purple platform shoes. His voice was kind of high but not annoyingly so.

"As always ladies first." He reached his hand into the bowl with female names. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. "The female that will represent district 2 is…" He paused to open the folded paper, "Coral Stone."

Now's my chance, "I volunteer as tribute." The camera turned away from the girl who was originally called to me. My face showed a confident smirk as I walked up the rows of kids to the stairs. Perman held his hand out for me to grab and helped me up the stairs.

"State your name for me dear." Perman held the microphone to my mouth, "Castella Duvoe."

* * *

I have a bad feeling about today. Our District 10 escort, Janus Tuffle, was giving the usual greeting for the Hunger Games. The 30th to be exact. Knowing my luck I'll probably get chosen. I'm not the middle child out of seven children for nothing. My older siblings and my younger siblings so far have managed to dodge the bullet to be a tribute year after year, but this year it's aimed at me.

I looked over to the girl's side in the sixteen year old section and saw the love of my life, Valeria Night. My girlfriend of two years. She had vibrant red hair, light brown eyes, tanned skin from working in the sun everyday with slight muscle to match, and a few freckles here and there. She turned her head to me as though she could feel eyes on her. We had brief eye contact before I started shaking my head in despair. She gave me a look, one that indicated I should calm down. She was right. I needed to have faith that my prayers reached God and that everything would work out for the best.

"Valeria Night."

Today was the worst day of my life. You know that moment when you tune out the world around you and you end up tuning back in on the most awkward words, well that was like this just more devastating than awkward. Her head snapped forward and stared at the screen in disbelief with tears filling her eyes, but she didn't allow herself to release them. She looked at me in fear.

"Decimus," she mouthed my name.

I felt utterly helpless. I couldn't do anything for her. The peacekeepers escorted her to the stage where the man in blue waited for her to take his hand to help her up the stairs.

Then a thought dawned on me. I looked at my other six siblings in their different sections. They were all looking at me as we all had the same thought. My little sister was shaking her head at me not to do it, but it's the only thing I can do.

Before Janus could call the male tribute of District 10 I yelled out, "I volunteer as tribute!"

* * *

I'm going to die. I'll never win. The moment District 6 escort, Hilly Halls, called my name I knew I was doomed. Children with chronic ailments don't last very long. We can barely make it through a day, let alone a dangerous game such as this. If the games don't kill me my illness untreated will end me within a day.

With the lack of health and physical strength the only thing I have going for me is my intelligence. Since I can rarely leave my house without getting sick I spend my days reading anything I can get my hands on. Usually it's books on transportation dating back to the days when transportation first started during the days of pre-Panem and how it advanced through the millenniums. If it can move from one place to the other I knew all about it. But it's one thing to know about technology and another to know how it works, so I also studied a vast range of physics. But at the end of the day I doubt that all I knew will help me anymore than a car without tires.

I was kind of stuck in my place and my breathing labored as a cold sweat dripped down my neck. I could feel myself tremble and I was minutes away from a coughing fit. The only thing I could hear over my harsh breathing was my mother's wails of despair as the peacekeepers grabbed my biceps and lifted me from the ground to the stage where the beginning of my end began. They placed me on the stage next to Halls and I turned to face the people I'd never see again. Not that any of them would care for me outside my parents since I didn't have any friends. I stared at my parents. My poor mother broken down with tears trailing down her face and her sobs loud against the silence. Her fiery red hair was frayed and her usually pale face now red from the tears and heartbreak. My father was holding her up trying to calm her sobs and be strong for her as he kept himself from breaking down too.

"Now shake hands you two," Halls grabbed my wrist along with one of many of my opponents and made us shake hands. The hand that could possibly kill me if I'm not careful.

"Your District 6 tributes ladies and gentlemen, Didi Knots and Fane Umbrough!"


	2. Chapter 2

Standard A/N: I have written before, but this is the first time I've posted anything. I ask that all inappropriate/disrespectful comments be kept to yourself. I don't have time to read rude comments and I am sure that the time it took to write rude reviews can be better spent reading another story. I'm not asking you to be nice, but not to say anything if you can't be. If there are any questions don't hesitate to ask. If they're about spoilers then I will ask you to wait and see for the next chapter.

The thirteen tributes are characters that twelve of my friends created, plus my own. I have also added a different game maker, so she is mine too. Each chapter will have three or four POVs, unless it is in my game maker's POV, then it is just one POV. The causes of death, who killed who, and orders of deaths for the tributes was done by random drawing, so I would not be seen as biased by my friends.

A/N: Yeah I know it's been awhile, but at least I posted another chapter and didn't leave you guys hanging.

Also what I didn't mention in the first chapter is that for every three to four tributes you read about per chapter that will be the order they will stay in until they die or someone else dies and I move the order up.

For example: Castella, Decimus, and Fane will always be in one chapter together, until one of them dies or someone else that effects their order does. Ex: Say Castella dies so the order would be Decimus, Fane, and Michi (You'll meet her soon).

Messaging panel for if I can't message you for some reason. All of you who I was able to message this does not apply to you.

To hairaclark717: Thank you for your review.

To Harlequin: I can't put all the tributes in on one chapter 'cause that would mean I would have to do a Reaping for everyone or a Justice Building part for everyone, etc., and that is not what I plan to do for the characters. Besides I feel that it would be too repetitive and boring, and way too long that even I wouldn't want to read it. My method with different tributes and different settings each chapter would move the story along and add an urge for others to want to read more so they can see what happens to their favorite tribute(s).

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the characters from the book mentioned. I do, however, own all the OC characters, excluding the twelve my friends made.

Please read and review. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2: When You're Gone

Here I am in the Justice Building. It's like waiting to be executed by the electric chair. Though I have to say I'm a little excited. Nothing outside of routine happens here. The sounds of pots and pans getting ready for the bread to be sold during the day, minimal social interaction and dirt streets filled with sad, hungry people.

I used to be one of those sad little people out on the street. From what the lady at the orphanage told me I wasn't from around here. I suppose it makes sense, since I'm not pale like everyone else. I have caramel colored skin; short, black pixie cut hair with slanted shaped eyes, more common of Asians in District 3. No one knows how I got here just that I was found on the other side of the electric fence in the grass. Everyone seems to think that my parents ran away from some district and left me by the fence before they were captured and turned into Avoxes.

Not that I particularly care. My life hadn't been too bad after the orphanage closed down. I spent about two years on the streets using a small knife and little traps made of what ever scraps I could find to hunt rats and mice so I'd have food to survive.

When I was eleven I was picked up by an old woman that runs a bakery in The Seam. Outside of teaching me how to bake bread and cakes she never said a word to me or told me her name and she never bothered to ask me for mine either, so I just stuck with calling her Grannie. I don't expect her to show up to see me off to my death. She'll probably pick up some other poor unfortunate kid to help her around the bakery.

But now my life is probably over. Until I check out the rest of the competition I won't know for sure, but I do know that my district partner, Azeal, is someone worth being wary of. Azeal was ten inches taller than me at five feet eleven inches, very dark skinned, black hair and black eyes, with a short unruly beard. He's as well off as he can get working at a stall his family owns in the Hob. He's nice enough, sweet even, but there's something in his eyes that isn't quite right. Like a time bomb waiting to happen.

The door opened, interrupting my thoughts, "Michi Mikura, it's time to go."

* * *

I've been waiting in the Justice Room for a few minutes for my parents to arrive to see me one more time before I leave. Well speak of the Devil and he shall appear. My parents walked through the Justice Room.

My father was a muscular man at five feet eleven inches with a stone cold expression and strawberry blond hair in a buzz cut. I was born with the same look minus the cold expression, three inches shorter, and a little leaner with cut short hair instead of a buzz cut. My mother was very tiny, barely five feet, but the fiercest little woman you'll ever meet.

"West your chances to win are higher than that little girl's. Don't disappoint us," my mother said, pride swelling in her chest.

I just nodded my head. I hadn't the heart to tell her how I have no intentions of playing their game. That at the end of the day, if I'm not being threatened, I won't kill someone just for sport.

"Please, Sher. You know the boy is weak and with the academy's best as his opponent he won't stand a chance."

"Of course he will. Weren't you the one to tell him to train at night without the eyes of everyone else to see what he's capable of? Since he knows what she can do, but she doesn't know his capabilities, she'll be in for a rude awakening."

"You don't think she'll be prepared for him? I greatly underestimated her ability."

Looks like I won't have to worry about telling them the truth about not wanting to kill. They're too absorbed in their own world to even be concerned about me. Nice to know that one parent has confidence in me while the other thinks I'm hopeless.

"What ability? What can she possibly do that we haven't already seen?"

She has a point. Not only do I get to watch her during class, but at the end of the school year there's this open tournament that everyone attends to watch the students present their acquired skills to the public. I on the other hand never participated in class or the tournament. The element of surprise is the best weapon one can have during a battle.

"I saw her when I was on my way home from work. I saw her, her brothers, and father fighting while she-"

"West family your time is up," before my father could get out what he had seen the peacekeepers had come to collect them before my time to leave.

My mother grabbed my hand in both of hers and squeezed it, while my father only shook his head in disbelief. My father never did tell me what he had seen, but I guess the element of surprise is the best weapon one can have during battle.

* * *

I'm shaking. Trembling even. I could feel my face turning red as the tears poured down my eyes. I didn't stand a chance. The door opened. I looked to see my mother with red, light brown eyes, a runny button nose, and long blonde hair matted down by sweat. I never truly realized how I looked just like her. Blonde, tiny, and frail.

She ran to me and held me in her arms. She rocked me back and forth sweeping my hair out of my face as she sang a soft soothing song about always being able to come home when the world get tough. The last time I heard it was after my father died during the harvest due to heat stroke when I was little. Mama and I were devastated, but that song helped us both cope.

"Darling," she said as she stroked my hair.

"Yes mama?" I said barely above a whisper.

"Please come home. You're all I have left. I need you sweetie."

"I'll try mama."

She pulled away from me to straighten us up. Grabbing onto my shoulders with a strong grip I never knew she had, "No, Euphora. You _will_ come home," she emphasized, "I can't go on without you home, okay?"

I nodded my head in understanding, "I will mama." But I had no confidence in my words. I wasn't coming back and we both knew it. Unfortunately, I never found out she hanged herself that night.


End file.
